


Someone To Trust

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-30 02:04:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16755781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: General George Bond's niece, Constance, friends with Garrison and his team since 'Skirts Like You' needs help when the General's Aide, Daniel Corey,  finds himself in serious trouble.  She needs someone she can trust, but it turns out she's not the only one.War years.





	Someone To Trust

Constance had been standing by the window, watching Daniel leave to head to an appointment, witnessed the three men rushing at him on the street outside, grabbing him, striking him, pushing him into that waiting car. She had dashed out, started to scream, but one of the men had looked back at her, smiled a very ugly smile and placed his finger over his lips. She'd been shocked into silence, not by that warning gesture, but by the sheer malevolence in his eyes. Before he leapt into the waiting car and it speeded away, he'd tossed an envelope toward her, an envelope in which she found that note demanding she keep quiet, to go about her regular routine unless she wanted truly awful things to happen to Daniel. 

A quick search of Daniel's office had brought to light the other notes, the demands, the implied threats, and she knew she needed help of a sort the military perhaps couldn't give her, not without putting Daniel into a totally different sort of danger. She knew Daniel, knew he would never have given in to blackmail, would never have given up valuable military information. SHE knew that, but would anyone at HQ understand that? Uncle George, General George Bond, was away, some hush-hush project for the military, and Constance was on her own. 

Unbeknownst to her, the General and Daniel Corey, his Aide, had been working together to find out who was behind the current threat. Somehow, they had seen no need to distress her with the knowledge of the threats, the fact that the house was under observation by unfriendly eyes, felt it best to protect her from all that. 

It is perhaps doubtful she would see it quite that way when she found out the truth of the matter. Still, maybe it was better, in a way, her NOT knowing, since she might have hesitated to call in outside help, and that would have been too late for Daniel.

Constance had made the call from the home of a friend where she'd stopped in for tea, someone she frequently had tea with, part of that 'regular routine' she'd been instructed to carry on with. Well, with all that had been going on, she didn't trust anyone anymore, and the thought had occurred to her that her uncle's house might have someone monitoring the phone. Alice had twitted her about using the phone in the library, in private, even closing the door behind her, leaving Alice on the outside. "A boyfriend, Constance? Is it someone your uncle disapproves of, that you couldn't call from home? Tell me, I'm all ears and you KNOW I'd never tell anyone!" Constance rattled off some nonsense or the other, satisfying Alice's curiousity. She certainly told her nothing of the truth; at this point she trusted no one, not even Alice, one of her best friends.

That wasn't quite true, though. She trusted SOME people, not many, but a few; it was just a question of which of those few people could help her in her desperate hour. She couldn't afford to guess wrong; she'd already ruled out Major Kevin Richards, as much as she liked him, thinking him far too likely to involve the military. He seemed far too much by-the-book for this sort of situation.

Actually, one call had ended up being three calls. The first had been to Julie Richards, who she thought would know the numbers for the others she had in mind. Julie had been curious, but oddly agreeable to giving her the information, agreeable as well to keeping their conversation just between the two of them. Well, Constance had always had a feeling about Julie, that she was much smarter than she let on, and was playing a deep game of her own. That would have worried her, perhaps, except that feeling was matched by an equally strong feeling that Julie could be trusted. And right now, Constance didn't have a lot of choices.

The next call had gone unanswered, the phone in that little cottage in Brandonshire ringing and ringing, but with no one there to answer. Constance was shaking now, crossing her fingers that the third call would produce results. Luckily for her, for Daniel Corey, for General George Bond, it did. 

While those results took a toll on various other individuals, including Lieutenant Craig Garrison and his team, in the end, Garrison deemed it worthwhile. Not that he wanted to repeat the experience any time soon, of course. He wasn't sure his nerves, not to mention his heart, could handle that.

It hadn't been as difficult as it might have been, at least the first part; fortunately Lord Seddley wasn't all that bright, hadn't guarded his trail nearly so well as he might have. He seemed to consider himself far above suspicion, and thus was careless, careless enough for the team to take advantage. Some careful observation, a simple little con, and there they were, at that house where Daniel Corey was being held. They were in and out before anyone could raise the alarm, the captive and captor both being borne away to a little safehouse Actor had put them in the way of. 

While Actor worked on patching up the rather battered Daniel, Garrison tried to get some sense from Lord Seddley, but what they got from him wasn't sense, just mindless propaganda.

"Stay back, he's actually frothing at the lips! What kind of disease causes that, Actor? Rabies?" 

"Rabies, or maybe the onset of a seizure. Perhaps a drug overdose. In this case, I think it's worse than any of those three. At least with those three there is perhaps some hope for recovery. The fourth? Not so much, not that I've seen, though there have been a few recorded instances." 

"And what would that be?" Garrison asked with deep concern. 

Actor just looked weary to the bone, "political fervor at its most extreme."

They listened to the words, the repeating of the words heard on the broadcasts. They heard the extravagant if more than a little rambling and frequently incomprehensible promises of prosperity for all those who were loyal, of the grim fate of all who were NOT loyal, of restoring a declining glory, a glory that had been stolen from the country by the cheating and sly machinations of others, of a return to what SHOULD be, of the exulting of one country's interests over all others. 

"You realize those are all lies, don't you??" Garrison just had to ask. How the man could actually function in society, maintain his seat in Parliament, WITHOUT realizing that, just made no sense.

"It doesn't matter," the man replied fervently, enthusiasm causing his eyes to glisten and gleam, "and you don't understand, any of you. You listen to what he SAYS, and deem them lies. It doesn't MATTER what he says, it only matters what's in his heart. WE KNOW his heart; we know he is on our side! It is not my fault you are so ignorant you can't SEE what's in his heart! Those of us who are loyal, WE understand! He speaks for US, by his actions. Even when it appears otherwise, when he does something we do not understand, we know he is on our side! His words, they are of no importance. What he says are lies, yes, perhaps, of course they are; they are just to confuse his enemies, to pit them one against the other, to weaken them in preparation for what is to come!"

"The fate of our Fatherland is at stake! We are at a crisis stage! It will take all loyal true Germans, including those like myself, of German mind if not German blood, to turn things around. First, we must rid ourselves of the other inferior races that seek to degrade the country. The more primitive races, and the Jews, and the Gypsies. Then, those degenerates who think to flood the country with their decadent music and literature and art, think to walk our streets freely, to corrupt our youth. Finally, when we have cleansed ourself of all of those, we will rid ourselves of those too infirm, too deformed, too old, too feeble in mind and body to march beside us to win back the glory of our Fatherland. When we are free of them, free of them all, then will Germany rise to the position destined, leadership of the world! Then, country by country, we will cleanse those populations, leaving the land and all its resources to become loyal German outposts!"

The man was in a state of ecstatic rapture; the others looked as if they were dealing with varying degrees of nausea.

"And just w'at do we do with 'im, Warden?" Goniff asked, knowing what he'd prefer, glancing over at the very battered Daniel Corey, who he didn't know at all, but knew Constance regarded highly, and then up at Craig Garrison, currently getting that painful bullet graze on his upper arm bandaged by the slender Englishman.

"Sit on him, for now," he said, directing Chief and Casino to take the sitting member of Parliament back to a small cellar room where Actor assured them the man would be secure. When they returned, he led into his possible plan. 

"He's already given us a great deal of information; hell, he's tossing out information like peanuts, along with all the crap he's spouting. What he's NOT given us are names and locations, and that we need." Garrison looked thoughtful, and the others were getting that uneasy feeling they usually got when their leader got an inspiration. Inspirations from Garrison were often interesting, certainly never boring, but tended to result in bullets flying or things blowing up or worse.

"Actor, he's about my height, bone structure isn't too far off. You're the one with the skills; do you think you can turn me into him?" 

The outburst was immediate, universal and furious in denial of any such notion. None of their arguments seemed to be having any effect, not til Daniel shook his head, clearing his throat to make his strained voice heard. "It wouldn't work, Lieutenant. You don't understand. His cell, the other one he connects to; from what I heard, his brother runs one, his cousin is in charge of the other. No, you can't just replace him; they've known him since the cradle. And you can't just arrest them, either; you'll never be believed without solid proof, and the others in the cells will just set up elsewhere. You'll just put yourself in mortal danger with no reasonable chance of a positive outcome."

Reluctantly, Garrison had to admit that put a damper on his plan, although they could see he hadn't given up, just changed his direction. No, he hadn't given up, just put his mind to what other scenarios might work. 

Casino had blinked, thinking of something, but gave his head just a tiny shake, rejecting the notion of giving Garrison any more wild ideas than he could come up with on their own. Finally, groaning in annoyance, both with the Warden and with himself, he reluctantly spoke up, "there's something that might draw them in, let us get a better look at them." And found himself the center of attention, all eyes on him. He tightened his jaw, his lips, wishing to hell he'd just kept his mouth shut. From the look on Goniff's face, HE did too.

"Casino, speak up. You can't drop something like that and then just let it lay there," Garrison ordered.

Casino sighed, knowing that was true; Garrison was like a dog with a bone, wasn't about to let it go.

"This joker, he's their brother, their cousin. Family, ya know?? We caught him, maybe he dont make it out alive. They're not gonna let THAT go, are they? Even without all the bullshit politics. They're gonna come after whoever they think is responsible, right?"

"Ruddy 'ell, Casino!!! We aint got enough trouble??! You wanna bring the rest of these blokes down on our necks??!" Goniff exploded. Yep, Casino had read that look on the Englishman's face just right.

A laconic drawl from Chief, "sides, don't see the Warden letting us ice him, not less he makes a break or something like that."

The intense frown of concentration on Garrison's face told the resigned Casino that, unfortunately, Garrison was actually taking his words seriously. He really, REALLY wished he'd kept his mouth shut.

"Yes, but if we only make it LOOK like we killed him, maybe made it look like we DID do it on purpose, because of the politics? That just might draw them out, if they're family." 

He turned to the tall con man adjusting the sling on Daniel's broken arm. "Actor, let's talk - all of us." There was that eagerness in his voice, an eagerness that drew an eye-roll from the three others of his team, the ones not so dignified as to consider that beneath them. It wasn't that Actor WASN'T doing much the same; he just didn't let it show on the outside like the others did.

Goniff flat out didn't like it. {"Ruddy 'ell, we got Daniel back; just wish we could go 'ome, not start another round!"}. But if this was to work, and it looked like Craig was bound and determined to give it a try, well, much as he would like to think different, there just wasn't any other choice. He muttered his words half under his breath, still wishing all this wasn't necessary. Hell, this was the kind of a thing a soldier, a hero might pull, and if there was one thing he was NOT, it was either of those two things! Just didn't have it in him and he knew it. He was pretty much a coward; that's why he left all that to the Warden and the other guys! Of course, the only one on the team who had Goniff pegged as a coward was Goniff himself; the rest all knew better, had seen otherwise many a time.

"Goniff? Did you say something?" Garrison asked. The frustrated mutter had been coached in Cockney cant, which seemed to emerge from their pickpocket only in times of high annoyance. Oh, the frustration, the annoyance came through loud and clear, it was the meaning that was more ambiguous.

The reply was as much of a snarl as anything else. "Said I'd do it, didn't I??! Don't make me repeat it. It's a damned stupid thing to be even thinking of, much less putting myself forward for, and I ruddy well 'ate to 'ave it rubbed in my face that I'm this stupid!"

The others looked at each other, then at Garrison, wondering where all that had come from. Actor spoke, a slightly soothing note in his voice. "No one said anything like that, Goniff. Perhaps . . . ", breaking off his sentence at the frown of self-disgust on the smaller man's face.

"No one 'ad to say it, Actor. We set up the con, leave it up to them to make a move, likely to have someone with a machine gun take us all out afore we know they're there. No, one a us got to be on the inside; only thing that makes any sense. We know it can't be the Warden. YOU sure as 'ell don't look like an easy mark, willing to listen to all that jibberjabber, not someone the Warden would kick out on 'is arse, now do you? Chiefy, 'e don't know London the way I do; couldn't blend in, don't 'ave the contacts; sides, HE'S one a those 'more primitive types' that bloke was preaching about; they'd not team up with 'im, now would they? Casino, 'e's too much of a tough guy; they'd 'ave to wonder."

"Me?" he shrugged. "That would make sense to them, that the Warden'd cut me loose if 'e got really pissed with me, maybe even threaten to send me back to lock-up. Makes sense I'd make a run for it, if that 'appened, now don't it, w'at with me being local? And if it's put about that the reason 'e's pissed aint just that I've made myself free with a few portables, but made it too clear I didn't think that bloke shoulda been killed, just because 'e saw things a little more clear than a lotta folks?? Especially with me being the only one from around 'ere; might be seeing the bombing and everything from a little different view, you know? Wanting an end to it quicker, even if it did take going around the rules."

Garrison shook his head, "no, Goniff. It's too dangerous. At least, you'd need one of the others with you, for backup, and you yourself just eliminated each of them," only to get a firm shake of that ashen blond head. It looked like Garrison wasn't the only one with a serious stubborn streak.

"Won't work like that, Warden, and you know it. Sides, they're gonna be keeping a watch for you guys. They aint likely stupid neither. Better I 'ave eyes they wouldn't recognize, might not be expecting."

"You gonna bring Meghada into this, Goniff?" Chief asked, only to get another firm shake of the head from the Englishman.

"She ain't around right now, off on some of Richards' business; no notion w'en she'll be back. No, there's others I know, might be willing to lend a 'and."

Garrison looked even more worried at that, "Goniff, you say the wrong thing to the wrong person, this could go to hell in a flash! Hell, Seddley is a prime example; member of Parliament, German sympathizer turned German agent, no one having a clue til he made the mistake of approaching the wrong man. If it hadn't been Daniel, if it had been someone more receptive, who knows how long he would have caused trouble, the damage he could have done."

Goniff just looked impatient, "didn't fall off the turnip truck yesterday, Warden! Do 'ave SOME idea w'at's w'at, you know! Be back in a few; you just figure out the con of making that bloke seem dead. It was up to me, wouldn't mind making it nice and simple, no con needed, ya know? But knowing you, you aint likely to go that direction, so best come up with something good."

Before they could protest, he was gone, with the team looking after him, wondering just where their team mate had disappeared to. 

Chief wished there'd been time to talk, just the two of them, gotten a few things straight. Sometimes Goniff would talk to him when he wouldn't the others; well, Chief had always had a little better read on the slender Englishman than the others. He didn't like not knowing what Goniff was intending, there were just too many ways it could all backfire. But there wasn't a hell of a lot he could do about it now, not til the chattery pickpocket came back. And whether that 'back in a few' meant a few minutes or a few hours, no one had a clue.

It was four hours later when Goniff slipped back into that house, ruefully knowing he was moving a hell of a lot slower than when he'd left. Maybe he should have asked someone other than Billy Camber to help him with the set-up. Billy always did have a hard fist.

Casino was the one on lookout at the door, his eyes widening when he saw the dishevealed little pickpocket slouch in through the opening. "Goniff??! What the hell happened to you, man??!"

Stroking the back of his hand carefully over the graze and rapidly developing bruises on the side of his face, straightening his dusty and slightly torn clothes, running a hand over his mussed-up hair, "ei, nothing much, Casino." 

That drew the attention of the others, Garrison with a deep frown of concern coming forward and reaching out to gently tilt that gamine face toward the light, wincing slightly at the sight. 

"Yes, certainly looks like 'nothing much'," he started, only to get a quick impatient frown of his own from his pickpocket. Somehow his pickpocket seemed older, more worn, more jaded than when he'd left, and it wasn't just the damage to his face; it was apparent in his eyes as well. The sight tugged at Garrison, deep inside.

"You want me to go into this with some a that makeup Actor uses? This aint no in-an-out, Warden; they're gonna 'ave time to take a real good look. Stuff like this, it changes day by day; you know that. So you gotta get this going real quick like, w'ile it's still fresh. It's gotta be real, bruises and cuts and all, or I might as well slit my throat right up front and be done with it."

Garrison's jaw dropped, "you mean you did this on purpose?" That had never occurred to him.

"Sure, knew this guy from the old days; 'e was willing enough, all in a good cause, you know." His shrug was way too casual for everyone's taste, especially when they saw the slight narrowing of his eyes showing it hurt more than a little.

Casino snorted, "hell, you wanted someone to belt you, ya damn fool Limey, coulda just asked me. Been happy to oblige." His eyes belied the truth of that flippant statement.

Goniff just let a slight knowing smile come to his face, "yeah, well with Billy, could be sure 'e'd stop with w'at was agreed on, Casino. You, couldn't be all that sure, now could I?" gently teasing the safecracker, one of his best friends, someone he knew would never really hurt him, not on purpose. Well, a good set of fisty-cuffs didn't count, that was just a bit of fun, after all.

"Yeah, yeah," Casino grumbled. "Looks like he did a pretty good job," noting the various bruises, heavy graze along the jaw, a few other things. Looked to him like this Billy did MORE than a pretty good job! Maybe he needed to talk to this Billy about that, after this was all over.

"Billy, 'e used to be a knuckle-buster for the mob; knows just 'ow to get a job done, 'ow much damage to do, w'atever 'is boss said. Not too little, not too much neither. Needed it to look real, but not slow me down." He straightened, a bit slower than usual in spite of those confident words. 

"'Ave to say, 'e was a bit more enthusiastic than I intended, but that's Billy for you, wanting to get the job done right! Course," he admitted with a sly grin, "didn't 'elp 'is Colleen was so 'appy to see me, she gave me a big 'ug and a kiss. She always did 'ave a soft spot for me, ya know? Don't think 'e liked that all so much, mighta figured into it," again fingering that growing bruise.

"Goniff, goddamn it!" Garrison was starting up for a good round of arguing, or maybe just for a good round of yelling, everyone could see that.

"Look, Warden," Goniff started to reason with him, knowing that may or may not work, considering Garrison and just how he could get, "gotta make it look like I really pissed you off. We can set up a likely scene, you blistering me, telling me off right good, making all kinds a threats about sending me back to prison. That's good, sure, that's got to 'appen. But it aint enough. Got to look like you're SO pissed, either you laid into me, or 'ad one of the others, landed a few good ones. Best if it's you, though; that'll make the story I'll put out on the street all the more believable. Bout ME then being so pissed, I'm looking to maybe get back at you. Better if we can do it without ruddy HQ being involved, at any level, though, if you don't mind. Dont need a bunch of MP's mixing in. Don't think so 'ighly of me, of any of the guys, you know? Might make it out from the rest, and end up Right Said Fred just from them!" 

It took Chief, who'd been picking up on some of the local cant, to clarify "means 'dead'" to let their looks of total confusion change to something increasingly grim, but at least more understanding of the situation.

And though Garrison didn't like it, didn't like it one little bit, he swallowed hard and went over what they'd decided could work. He tried not to focus on those bruises, just on those determined blue eyes, but it wasn't easy. There was enough pain showing in those eyes to make his guilt all the more evident.

Maybe they'd been right; maybe he should have just let it be, been satisfied with nabbing Seddley. But knowing the damage those underground cells could do, he just couldn't do that. But it hadn't worried him nearly so much when it had meant putting HIMSELF on the line; for it to be Goniff, that just felt wrong. To see the damage his pickpocket had already taken . . .

The yelling was loud, the voices increasingly furious, the other visitors at Hotel Marchant having the sense to steer clear of it all, and if they hadn't, Henri Marchant insisted on it. Well, Garrison's voice was furiously angry, Goniff's was furiously defensive, then defiant, then pained, then more. Their faces, when they emerged from the room, went a long way toward matching their voices. The earlier thuds had sounded suspiciously like fists hitting their target, and the yelps that sounded in reply seemed to bear out that notion. Now, anyone getting a look at Goniff's battered face, his hunched posture, the damage touched up by the talented Actor to appear slightly more immediate, a couple of cuts deliberately reopened so the blood would look fresh, they would have known quite well what had happened, especially with Garrison's knuckles showing masterfully applied grazes and blood of their own.

It was obvious the small man wasn't totally cowed. "You think you know everything, Warden?!! Well, maybe you do, maybe you don't! Aint your 'ome w'at's being blasted apart, now is it??! Maybe 'e 'as the right idea, get it over with right quick; might 'ave a chance of some of the place still being standing!!!" The sneer on the almost-feral looking little Cockney's face was vicious. 

"But no. Your people, all the way across the water, THEY'RE safe and sound, aint they? You aint got as much to lose. Can't 'ave, to be so 'igh and mighty! Well, you thinking you're so much better than 'im, just 'ow does you croaking 'im like that, 'im not even lifting 'is fists to you, 'ow does that make you so much better?? Just cause you didn't like w'at 'e was saying??!" 

With one fierce swing of Garrison's right arm, the Cockney ended up on the floor, Garrison standing over him with his fist in position for another blow, if needed.

It hadn't taken all that much for the news of Lord Bentley Seddley's disappearance to reach his people, though the fact of there being no official word, no charges, all made it very mysterious. Still, a word here, a word there, and there had been enough to bring a witness to that exchange, Bentley's brother, Geoffrey, leader of the cell of German sympathizers. Though he had no special fondness for most of his family, he and Bentley and their cousin Merrick had a common bond in their political ideals, and the apparent news of Bentley's death at the hands of the American officer didn't sit well. 

The scene DID present certain possibilities, though, and Geoffrey made sure to keep watch from his position in that darkened doorway till Garrison and the others walked away, leaving a beaten-down Cockney huddled in the corner. He started to step out, when suddenly Garrison whirled around, pointed at the smaller man and snarled, "and stay there! The MP's will be here for you as soon as I find them, then as far as I'm concerned, you're back to that concrete cell I never should have pulled you out of!" 

It was probably good for the small blond that Garrison had turned and marched away before the blond gave that defiant snarl and the muttered, half under his breath, "feck you, you bastard!" and painfully pulled himself up and toward the exit, moving slowly but determinedly, cradling his ribs with one arm.

Geoffrey made a quick decision and stepped forward, getting a decent snarl of his own as he touched the smaller man on the shoulder. Smiling a disarming smile, he said reassuringly, "here, let me give you a hand. It seems that one rather did some damage. You'll do better with a little help. Seems a frightfully unfriendly person, you know, even for a Yank."

From a side room, a keen pair of eyes watched, moved to a window to send a quick hand signal to another pair of keen eyes watching from the street below. When the two men emerged and disappeared into that black car, a car followed along. 

"Davis, do be careful to be sure we aren't being followed," Geoffrey instructed, casting a quick look behind them. 

"Yes, sir," and a few quick turns, including one into what was marked as a Dead End (but was no such thing), found the following car wandering aimlessly, wondering what had gone wrong.

Luckily, those boys on rickety bicycles had no such difficulty in manoeuvering, and once the car pulled up outside that house and the men went inside, young Mike was able to report back to Daniel Madison while Charlie watched to be sure Goniff didn't head out anywhere else.

Meanwhile, Garrison was hearing the news from a friend he'd enlisted, someone his men knew nothing about, someone no one should recognize as being connected with him or the team. His blood chilled at that frustrating news. 

"You lost them?? Damn it!" Yes, he'd agreed not to have any of his men try to follow, not get the MP's involved, but had hoped this might work. Now, Goniff was out there, somewhere, alone. Garrison could only hope those 'outside eyes' Goniff had spoken of were up to the task of keeping his pickpocket alive.

Meghada heard the news from Maude, and she wasn't any happier about it than Garrison, though at least hearing who was doing the covering gave her some feeling of confidence, since she knew them well enough. The Brangle Street Lads were sharp as a tack, youngest to oldest, and Cam Madison, the father of the current leader as well as the one previous, was a downy one, one they could turn to for advice if they came up a stumper. He'd run the Lads in his own time, after all, before he passed leadership to a younger cousin when he'd turned eighteen. How this had all come about, she could just about imagine, and while she fumed at Garrison for just HAVING to go for the brass ring even after he'd nabbed Lord Seddley, she did understand, just as she understood why it had gotten turned around and it being Goniff out there. She understood, but she didn't have to like it!

She sighed with annoyance, this time at Major Kevin Richards and General George Bond for sending her on that wild goose chase after Lord Simpson. After Daniel had gone to the General with the proposition that had been made to him, then the blackmail threats that were signed simply 'S', the General put two and two together and came up with Lord Simpson. He'd been WONDERING why he kept catching glimpses of His Lordship in the immediate neighborhood; he knew for a fact that the man had an estate on the outskirts of London and didn't keep town quarters. 

Of course, it turned out Lord Simpson wasn't working with the Germans, after all, though he WAS having a rather torrid affair with his wife's much younger married niece. While not acceptable, of course, at least it made all that sneaking around he'd been doing more understandable. Made his being seen in the General's neighborhood understandable as well, since that was where the niece had an accommodating friend, one who turned a blind eye to the General and the young lady using that back entrance to the house. 

BUT, her off ferreting all that out meant she WASN'T on the trail of Lord Seddley, hadn't been at home to get that damned phone call, hadn't been where she could have kept her fingers on the pulse of what the guys were up to. 

She sat sipping her drink while Marisol went to fetch the current leader of the Lads. While he and his followers wouldn't go prattling their business to just anyone, she and her sister weren't just anyone; they had a history here in the East End, a history and a certain reputation. Daniel Madison (and no, he didn't like to be called Danny!) made his agile way in from the kitchen, slid into the seat opposite her.

"Been awhile, Miss Rue," he nodded politely.

"Aye, Daniel, that it has. I hear you and the Lads are doing a bit of work for a friend of mine. Another East Ender, he is, blond, wiry, about your height, maybe a little less, a crooked eyetooth?"

He eyed her cautiously, raising one eyebrow questioningly. "A friend, is he?"

"A very good friend, one I'd be very upset were anything bad to happen to him. One I'd be most appreciative to get back safely," taking another casual sip from her glass, motioning to Maude to bring a second glass to the sixteen-year old watching her so carefully.

Satisfied at whatever he had been looking for in her eyes, getting confirmation in that quiet nod from Maude, Daniel nodded, "well, that's w'at we're undertaking to do, though you might as well know up front 'e's taken some damage, your friend." 

He hastened to tell her when her face turned grim, "but it was at 'is own request, wanting to be properly marked up for setting the trap, it seems. 'Ad Billy Camber do the job, though I don't know I'd 'ave chosen 'im myself. Don't 'ave the control 'e 'ad once, mighta done a little more damage than was intended. His Colleen gave 'im a good scolding for that, I 'eard. Next time, better 'ave me arrange it; your friend's been out of the neighbor'ood the past few years, needs 'is information updated, most like."

"Do you need anything to do the job properly, Daniel? A little of the ready, perhaps?" having made a quick withdrawal from one of the stashes she kept around. 

"Wouldn't 'urt," Daniel admitted. "'E gave us a bit upfront, but not enough to go far if it starts goin sideways. There's those who talk more freely when you cross their palm. But for us?" He shrugged, "my brother and cousin, they're off fighting the bloody Krauts; smoke and flying bricks and burnt out buildings most any part of London you go anymore. Don't much like the notion another bunch a Brits are making it easier on the Krauts, none of us do. Won't let us join up yet, w'at with me being the oldest of the Lads, but something like this, well, maybe this will make a difference." There was a solid air about the young man; obviously the Brangle Street Lads were once again fortunate in their leader, as they had been in previous ones.

She slid an envelope out from under her jacket, pushed it across the table toward him. "Use this however you need; there's more if you need it. Now, what can you tell me?" And she listened, her concern not lessened, but neither was her resolve. "Very well, Daniel, I'll leave it in your quite capable hands. But I want to be kept informed, fully briefed."

 

So far it was going well, at least as far as Goniff was concerned. Bottom line, he was still breathing. Better still, he hadn't gotten any new bruises, nobody had caught on to the con, though he knew they were double-checking his story, looking for anything that looked out of place. Seems Craig had done the job up right, though; that last report had Lord Geoffrey Seddley relaxing his guard quite a bit more, at least around Goniff, if even more determined to make Craig Garrison pay in full for his brother Bentley's death.

Goniff snickered to himself, {"just why would someone with the last name of 'Seddley' go and name their tikes 'Geoffrey' and 'Bentley'? Didn't they say the names out loud, see 'ow they sounded, before they stuck them on? Course, may be a family tradition, with that cousin of theirs being 'Merrick Derrickson'. Though that aint 'alf so bad as those first two!"}. 'Rodney Grainger' might not have been the name he'd have opted for, but he could now see it could have been far worse!

Now, here he was, sitting at a round table across from Geoffrey and Merrick, not that he'd been invited to call them by anything so familiar. No, he'd stuck pretty much with 'sir', and they seemed fine with that. Wasn't like they were looking to be best drinking buddies, anyhow, just trying to find a way to get to Garrison, maybe the other guys too. 

He'd had enough time to get the names, at least the ones they were traveling by, and the descriptions of everyone in Geoffrey's unit, but had only come up against Merrick and his right hand man out of the other. That left four men unaccounted for, and after putting his neck on the line, Goniff really wanted to make it a clean haul. {"I DON'T, will just 'ave Craig thinking up some new scheme to get that done,"} he thought with reluctantly fond irritation. It wasn't that he didn't respect the man for being so determined, or for being smart enough to come up with all those plans, or for having more courage than any one man SHOULD have for his own good. He DID, really, respected him and more. It was just that while Goniff didn't have any honest expections of living through the war himself, he really didn't want to have to bury that overly-stubborn green-eyed officer, or any of the other guys, either. 

Now, he listened, answered the questions they asked, and agreed to the plan they'd put into place. Only then did he show any hesitation, and that only about working with "people I aint even met!; 'ow'm I to know you aint got a ringer tucked in there, ei? Don't want to get my neck stretched over this, nor my throat slit neither!" 

It turned out he could be just as stubborn as Garrison when he put his mind to it; a meeting was set for the following day, "just to ease your mind!" explained a highly annoyed Merrick. He didn't like explaining himself to anyone, much less a little gutter rat like this one, but just this once, to get to the man, the men responsible for Bentley's murder, he would. They could always deal with the impertinent little bastard afterwards.

It had come close to blowing up in his face, that little meeting. Oh, it got him an intro, and a good look at their faces, but it gave them the same. One of the men frowned, pulled Merrick aside, whispering to him. Merrick turned, cocked his head, perhaps really seeing Goniff for the first time. 

He walked over and stood in front of Goniff, Goniff going for a totally bland and neutral look on his face; he didn't think 'innocent' would fly with this crowd. "What is a Redmond doing pretending to be a Cockney hustler? What is a Redmond doing working with the military, in a unit like that?" and Goniff felt the ground shift under his feet. He was pretty sure it wasn't but a second or two before he replied, but he worried that might have been just a bit too long.

"Aint no bloody Redmond, sir," he protested, letting his face show his offence at the very thought.

"I don't know why I didn't see it before; other than your coloring, there's no doubt. And as I now recall, there WAS another brother who was a blond. I asked you a question!"

"And I told you! Aint no bloody Redmond; name's Grainger. You talking about who diddled me mum, now that just might 'ave been a Redmond; don't know noffin about that. Don't look anything like me dad, I don't, that's for sure. But that don't make me a Redmond, any more than some little opera dancer you diddled pops out a brat and that making 'im w'atever YOUR name is!"

He breathed an internal sigh of relief when the men seemed to accept the truth of that. {"One a these days, that Redmond blood's gonna get me killed!"} he thought, with more than a little disgust.

The rest of the meeting went well, and he had all the information firmly in his mind, along with detailed destriptions of everyone involved. Now all there was for it was to find a way to signal those watching that he had the goods and would kinda like to go home now. At least he wasn't dealing with some of the twats up at HQ; who knows how they'd manage to muck things up. One thing about dealing with the Brangle Street Lads, once they took on a job, they'd get it done, even if they got bloody doing it. Maybe that's why he understood Craig as well as he did; wasn't like he hadn't seen that same level of stubborn 'see it through to the end' style before.

Garrison got the word when a rough looking street lad jostled him as he left Marchant's, apologized with a quick nod but muttering, "quick, gov, drag me inside like you're gonna give me a good whaling for bumping you. Gotta message!" Garrison acted quickly, yanking the skinny boy inside, making a good show of it. Henri Marchant saw, raised an eyebrow in surprise, but made no protest when Garrison nudged the boy, probably no more than ten or so, into the library and closed the door behind them. He knew Garrison well enough to know the boy was in no danger, and also well enough to know he was better off staying out of his business if possible.

"What do you mean 'it's going down now'? Can you be just a little more specific?? When, where, how??" Garrison growled in frustration.

"Can't, gov," came the cheeky reply. "That's w'at I was told to tell you, well, along with where they'll be taking 'im once they do the snatch. 'Ere, I'll give you the address, right? Then gotta be on me way. This aint the only job we got going, ya know?!" 

Meghada got the word via telephone while sitting at Kevin Richard's desk, arguing with him about his latest bout of interferring in her and her sisters' personal business; somehow her worry over Goniff and the guys hadn't mellowed her temper any at all. He'd answered the phone, handed it over to her without a word, though with a curious look.

"It's going down, Miss Rue. Taking 'im to the pub once we snatch 'im." The phone went dead and she stood staring at it, swearing inwardly at whoever thought THAT was a complete briefing!

"Have to be leaving, Kevin. Things to do, places to go, people to see, all that. Later." There was a serious lack of cheeriness in that parting statement, more of a growl of deep annoyance.

"Meghada!" he protested, "what is going on??"

"Don't ask me, Kevin. Seems it's 'need to know' and I'm apparently not on the BLOODY LIST!"

He sat, musing, as the fiery redhead left, slamming the anteroom door after her. "Well, at least she's stopped yelling at me, for now anyway," and went back to the file he'd been working on. At least the glass had survived that slamming of the door; it hadn't the LAST time.

 

Garrison and the guys got to the pub first, Meghada following right on their heels. Maude poured them all a drink, which they pretty much ignored in favor of watching the door and their watches. It was the gabble of voices that caught their rapt attention first, then that cluster of teenagers, ranging from thirteen to sixteen or thereabouts, bursting through the doorway to the kitchen, a rather battered Goniff in their midst. Two or three of the boys had taken some damage too, but all seemed surprisingly cheerful for all that.

Maude set up to clean and bandage cuts, tsk tsk'ing over assorted bruises, listened along with the rest as the whole tale was told. In the middle of all that, there was still time for Goniff's blue eyes to search out Craig Garrison and give just a slight reassuring nod, a faint twitch of a smile, seeing those anxious green eyes start to relax a little. 

More than one of the listeners had to hide a smile now and again, especially with the oldest of the boys chiding Goniff, in a superior manner even Actor couldn't have done better with, though in quite a different accent, "been gone too long, you 'ave, Goniff! Using Billy Camber! Coo! Best sit down and get caught up on w'at's w'at! Billy? Lost 'is touch a time back, 'e did! There's others far better! And next time something like this comes along, best come to us in the beginning, coulda worked out terms easy enough, nothing too steep! Coulda winkled out all their names on our own, you know - a lot less likely to get yourself all bloodied. Not as young as you once were, you know." 

Goniff had a look of sheer frustration on his face, only partly because of the cocky lecture he was being given by a lanky sixteen year old already an inch taller than he was; his blood had run cold when that same sixteen year old had moved to block that knife headed toward Goniff's gut, getting a sliced arm for his trouble. 

"Look who's talking! Took a bit of damage yourself, didn't ya, BOY! and next time, don't you go putting yourself between me and someone with a ruddy knife, Daniel Madison! 'Ow'm I supposed to explain that to your mum and dad, ei, you getting yerself killed on my account? Always good to me, they was! Fine way to repay them!" 

Daniel just laughed, "look, Old Man! I don't care so much you get yourself carved up, if you want to, but Miss Rue over there, seems she DOES care, for w'atever reason, not that I can see it, you know. Don't need 'er pissed at me, still, w'at ever the reason. SHE'S more dangerous than that bloke with the knife, and you'd be best remembering that too!"

Daniel sent a sly approving look over at Meghada, and went on, "'Ave to say though, you ever feel you aint up to dealing with 'er and that red 'air and temper and all that juice, cause of your advanced age and all, just slip me the word - be 'appy to step in; she just might 'ave a fancy for someone with a little more spring in 'is step! Maybe a little more tilt in 'is kilt??" taunting Goniff while sending a cocky, knowing look over at the redhead, who was trying to keep from laughing, remembering how Caeide had told her of Daniel's older brother Derrick's semi-proposal of marriage, after he'd watched the thirteen year old Caeide kill the men threatening Peter and Maudie and Marisol. Derrick had been about the same age then as Daniel was now.

Goniff sputtered at the designation of 'old man', along with all the rest of that commentary, the guys laughing at seeing the youngster take the wind out of his sails. Meghada only increased the level of hilarity with a chuckle and her wry, "oh, he has plenty of 'spring in his step', Daniel, and all the rest along with it, his kilt tilting just fine, thank you kindly for your concern on my behalf. And I thank you for the offer as well, but I'm content enough as it is. Doubt I'll go alooking far afield, no matter how tempting an offer," giving Goniff a look that could have melted the polar icecaps. Goniff had switched from being indignant to being slightly flushed but with an appreciative grin on his face at her retort.

Meghada had held back from any physical contact, but now at his open warm smile of invitation, she went forward to gently touch the back of her fingers to his bruised cheek, to gently tell him in heartfelt tones, sweet dulcet tones imparting a message he couldn't mistake, a message that no listener could doubt, "you pull something like this again, laddie, I swear I'll kick you where you'll feel it most!!!" 

He threw back his head and laughed, along with everyone else in the room. {"Ei, she probably will too!"}

The cleanup was quick and final. The names and descriptions, the locations Goniff had been able to come up with put an end to the two cells of German sympathizers. Even the most ardent of arguments from the families of those involved couldn't keep the men out of the cells held for them.

And if Kevin Richards was still trying to figure out all the ins and outs of how it all interconnected, well, it made a great deal of sense when he remembered that evening affair when Constance had made his acquaintance, as well as those of Garrison, Goniff and Meghada. 

He was feeling rather superfluous to the entire matter, and he discovered General Bond felt pretty much the same, when the General told him in a rather disgruntled voice, "we could have kept out of it entirely, Major, just left it to the youngsters, it seems." 

Kevin snorted in agreement. Even though he knew the General was speaking of Constance and Daniel and Meghada and Garrison and the others on the team, HE knew there had been other 'youngsters' involved, including another Daniel. He didn't like it, but he had to admit, they had proved themselves quite effective, and not for the first time. He rather doubted it would be the last time either.

Afterwards:

*"He never introduced us to any of those he said were watching, backing him up, other than those boys. Wonder who was running the show?" Garrison mused, sipping at his drink, Actor sitting across from him, tenuously sipping at his drink as well, wondering how to handle this. 

He felt this conversation could be headed into areas it best not to go. HE had the feeling that those 'boys' HAD been the ones doing the backing up, with maybe that 'boy' Daniel being the 'one running the show', knew how Garrison would react if he knew that. No, it was better their young lieutenant thought the boys were just acting as messengers, had only gotten involved in that rescue by mischance or an excess of youthful enthusiasm. Their young Lieutenant was growing up fast under their tutelage, but still a long way from the full understanding he would eventually need to arrive at. Perhaps there was no benefit to rushing the process.

"Probably we are better off that way, Craig. Goniff's prior associates seem to be quite useful, at least in this set of circumstances, but not quite what you, or even I, are accustomed to dealing with. Probably better off not knowing much about them at all, for their sake as well as our own." 

Still, Garrison wondered; it seemed his pickpocket had resources and depths that astounded even Garrison, though that shouldn't keep surprising him the way it did. Still, each time, something stirred within him, something surely he was better off not acknowledging out loud where anyone else could hear. It would be too easy to get careless, and that just couldn't happen.

**

"Chiefy, next time you see me start to do something that ruddy stupid, volunteering like that, just kick me, alright?"

"Won't have to, Goniff. Heard Meghada promise she'd take care of that," Chief answered laconically, leaning back in his chair, sipping at that one drink he'd been indulging in, to the accompaniment of three of his team mate's.

Goniff grinned a little, shyly, with a little bit of embarrassment, "well, yes, and she starts out that way, right enough, least saying it, but that aint the way it finishes up, you know?? Seems I'd be more likely to remember just 'ow ruddy painful and stupid it was if YOU took care of that little thing, right up front, stead of 'er." 

Chief snorted in amusement, letting an unaccustomed smile, an amazingly sweet smile, capture his face, picturing what he figured had gone on. "She ended up cuddling you, didn't she?" looking at his best friend, his team mate, seeing that sheepish look that told him so much.

"Well, after she scolded me right 'ard, then made me tea and scones and 'ot soup, and scolded me some more, then gave me that rub down with that special comfrey cream she makes, for all the bruises, you know, then scolded me again, then . . . Well, kinda loses some of the impact as a deterrent, you know???!" a flush staining his pale cheeks.

Chief snorted, "yeah, I guess it would!" knowing just how it all probably had ended up, the two of them in Meghada's bed.

Meghada could no more stand firm against Goniff than she could against the sun rising, and for someone as strong of will as she was, that was saying a lot. While he had no interest there, Goniff or Meghada, still, it made him just slightly envious; after all, it must be awful nice, to have someone care so much, someone who liked that you'd care in return. His mind veered off to dark brown eyes, an arrogantly cocked head, swallowing hard.

Chief brought his mind back to the question at hand. "Well, maybe it won't come up again. Maybe the Warden will start being a little more . . . " Looking into those resigned, knowing eyes, he knew this argument wouldn't prevail, that Garrison was NEVER going to become more cautious, more reluctant to dash into battle. 

"Well, maybe you'll get over thinking you've got to . . ." Looking into those pained, knowing eyes, he knew this wasn't going to work either - Goniff was never going to stop trying to protect Garrison, from others and from Garrison himself - Garrison and the rest of the team as well.

He relented, sighed, "yeah, I'll remind you." 

Well, it wasn't like he was gonna get over his own obsession, was it? Not in this lifetime, anyways.

 

***Daniel Corey didn't know how to approach this with Constance. How do you say 'thank you for saving my life, but don't do it again. Don't put yourself at risk.' 

He had tried, using pretty much those words, but the sharp slap to his face, actually spinning his face to one side had stopped him dead in his tracks. Somehow, looking at her determined, even furious face, he knew he had a struggle ahead of him. 

He'd been starting to think, before all this happened, that she just might feel something for him beyond the quiet friendship they'd developed. He'd hoped so, since his own feelings had progressed quite a bit beyond that. Now, he thought he'd damaged, maybe lost even that treasured friendship.

Her words did nothing to dissuade him from that opinion, not when delivered in such a loud frustrated voice. "OOOOHHH! YOU STUPID IDIOT!!!" Yes, a struggle for sure.

Then, the struggle shifted, and it became one of how to keep from returning the heated kiss she was pressing to his mouth, all the while her arms tight around his shoulders. Somehow, once he decided to stop struggling, started returning that kiss, somehow, things shifted into place, perhaps a different pattern than before, but one just as right. He slipped his arms around her and pulled her even closer, oblivious to everything except that Constance was in his arms, right where she should be.

General Bond turned the corner, and saw what was happening in the corridor outside Daniel's office. A look of satisfied gratification came across his face, and he silently turned and made his way back to his own office. {"Plenty of time to discuss those letters with him later. Wonder how long before they decide to tell me."}

****Meanwhile, Craig Garrison stared at his ceiling, remember those moments when he'd though he'd lost their, his pickpocket entirely. Remember the moments when it turned around, and Goniff was again grinning at him, even if that grin had seemed slightly forced, the pain in those blue eyes dimming that grin. Wondering how it would end, when he'd lose something, someone he couldn't admit to the world meant so much to him. Wondering . . .


End file.
